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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194902">Naked and Not Paid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuitlevitation/pseuds/biscuitlevitation'>biscuitlevitation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Sexual Situations, Crack, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Pining, Sexual Tension, Wardrobe malfunctions, and they wanna GET him hot ifuknowhatimean, basically obi-wan is hot and the clones know it, literally they try to make him hot so he'll take his shirt off, thirst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:12:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24194902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuitlevitation/pseuds/biscuitlevitation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the clones are united in pursuit of a greater purpose: to see Obi-Wan Kenobi shirtless.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>212th Attack Battalion/Obi-Wan Kenobi, 501st Legion/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Clone Trooper Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fun/Humour/Crack in a Galaxy Far Far Away</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the title is stupid but so is this fic lmao</p><p>it also involves nudity and neither the clones nor the jedi actually get paid so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p><p>This might not be hot because I'm not actually attracted to men but I think really blatant and desperate thirst is HILARIOUS so I hope it's funny? Lmk if there's any way I can make this story sexy and I'll try my gosh darn best</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with a spar and a wardrobe malfunction.</p><p>Well, maybe that wasn’t totally accurate. For Cody, it had started years ago, when he looked up to the observation deck, saw bright blue eyes set in a handsome (and soaking wet) man’s face, and promptly swallowed his nutrient mush the wrong way. </p><p>For many of his brothers, similar things occurred whenever they first met Kenobi. Waxer <i>still</i> liked to tell the story about Boil smacking his bucket into a door frame after Kenobi had first called him by name, though Waxer had no leg to stand on considering he’d managed to trip over thin air the first time Kenobi clapped him on the shoulder. Wooley had taken weeks to stop gushing about the stunt their Jedi had pulled with the gutkurrs during the Ryloth campaign. Even Fordo and Alpha-17, two of the coldest bastards in the GAR, got a certain glint in their eyes when Kenobi’s name was mentioned, for all that they both had warned him repeatedly about what a pain in the shebs serving with him would be.</p><p>He’d gotten more than a few envious looks from the other CCs when he’d been assigned the role of Kenobi’s commander. The Jedi Generals were, on average, not a bad-looking bunch, but Kenobi… apparently something in Jango Fett’s genes heartily, <i>heartily</i> approved. Even Bly, who’d been smitten with General Secura within hours of meeting her, was more than willing to praise General Kenobi’s… numerous physical virtues. </p><p>Every time Cody went to 79s the conversation was dominated by what the vode would like to do to Kenobi, and in what order, by the time everyone was a drink or two deep. The 212th rarely had to buy their own drinks, as men from the other battalions were eager to hear about Kenobi’s latest exploits in vivid, raunchy detail. Cody would sit nursing his beer and desperately try to convince himself that his professionalism wasn’t compromised even as he guiltily listened in on conversations rife with speculation about how Kenobi might use that silver tongue of his in other contexts. </p><p>(But he was also a pragmatic bastard, so he wasn’t above bribing other commanders with combat footage of his general from his helmet cam if it meant his supply requisitions got fast-tracked.)</p><p>-</p><p>The clones’ genes had been altered to encourage easy muscle growth, but Cody and many of his brothers liked to work out during down time to keep from going stir crazy. The Negotiator’s gym was bare-bones, as the clones typically stuck to the drills and sparring that they were accustomed to from training on Kamino, but Kenobi and most of the other Jedi generals always left a little room in the budget for recreation, considering they owned and wanted much less than other nat-born officers. They blew a lot of it on drinks at 79s, but occasionally the 212th got bored enough to save up for something else. Even more occasionally, they agreed on what to buy.</p><p>So now they had a few weights, a treadmill, and even some athletic equipment. There were always at least a few vode making use of them, and the waitlists were long, but it made the ship feel like more of a home.</p><p>Another side effect was that they got to watch the general use them, too. </p><p>Cody hadn’t noticed at first, considering the pains Obi-Wan took to let his men relax outside of the presence of a superior officer, but their Jedi got cabin fever just as regularly as they did. It took a lot of coaxing, but he eventually managed to convince the general that he had just as much of a right to use the equipment as they did. (Maybe more, considering he’d sacrificed his exotic tea habit to give the men a few more credits to spend, and drank the same industrial-grade caff as the rest of them. He tried to hide it, but if you watched closely you could see his lips purse in disgust whenever he swallowed it.</p><p>Cody watched General Kenobi <i>very</i> closely.)</p><p>The first time Kenobi set foot in the gym, the equipment was vacated before their general could breathe a word of greeting. Cody knew that a lot of it came from genuine respect and gratitude, and a lot more came from a desire to have an unobstructed view of their Jedi getting hot and sweaty, but he could tell from the small frown on Kenobi’s face that he’d taken it the wrong way. So Cody, heart in his throat, stripped off his armor and sat on the bench press.</p><p>“Spot me, sir?” he asked quietly, and the smile that he got in return was well worth the mortification of asking for something so frivolous from a superior officer. At his pointed look, his brothers slowly returned to what they were doing before, though they kept getting distracted by the easy grin and soft encouragement their general, in only two layers instead of his customary four or five, was giving their commander.</p><p>(Cody set a new personal record that day for both weight and reps. He might have been showing off a little.)</p><p>Eventually his comm went off, and Gearshift, who’d been on the waitlist for the bench press for weeks, gallantly exclaimed that he would use his time slot spotting the general while Cody answered whichever shabuir decided to call him at the worst possible moment. (It was, perhaps predictably, Fox. He was going to wipe the floor with him the next time they sparred.) He’d had to endure the gossip about how jacked Kenobi must be beneath his robes for days on end, and he couldn’t even order them to stop because if he did everyone would know exactly why he was so annoyed.</p><p>Kenobi soon took to practicing his saber forms while his men were running drills, and they all got so distracted that the entire formation fell apart the first time they saw him triple backflip from a standstill. Cody would have been furious, but considering that he’d accidentally rammed into Waxer he couldn’t say shavit.</p><p>Kenobi, pushing his hair from his face and breathing hard, looked at his scattered and mortified men with a single raised brow. His clothes were askew and his fingers were still combing through his bangs and he was absently moulineting his lightsaber and it was all just extremely unnecessary.</p><p>“Is everything all right?”</p><p>“Peachy, sir,” Boil growled, trapped under a pile of starry-eyed shinies. </p><p>Longshot, who was now promoted to the position of Cody’s favorite, saved them with his quick thinking: “We were just admiring your form, sir.” (Gearshift kneed Crys in the stomach before he could snicker at the phrasing.) “We were never taught to fight like that.”</p><p>“I see,” Obi-Wan said, with a flattered little smile on his face that Cody wanted to bottle up and keep under his pillow. “Would you like to learn? I’m afraid that lightsabers are too dangerous to use without years of specialized training, but the katas have hand-to-hand applications, as well.”</p><p>“If you’re willing, general, it would be very beneficial to diversify our combat techniques,” Cody said quickly.</p><p>So Obi-Wan set up lessons that were geared toward teaching every willing man in his battalion (which was all of them) how to fight like a Jedi. He put so much effort into it, and was so genuinely proud of them for their progress, that the guilt was genuinely making it hard for Cody to sleep at night, though not enough for him to stop. Unlike <i>some</i> people, he wasn’t shameless enough to get forms wrong on purpose in the hopes that Kenobi might physically guide him into position, once Obi-Wan made it clear he was willing to do that. He’d once made a shiny’s entire week by touching his bare arms when nudging him into place, and the men’s ability to learn from observation alone had dropped dramatically immediately afterwards.</p><p>But Cody’s perfectionism (and disgust with himself) paid off, and once a few lessons had passed Kenobi called him up for an exhibition spar.</p><p>Cody bit back a sigh when Obi-Wan performed his customary dramatic robe drop, glaring at the brothers who were ogling their Jedi a little too openly, but then his general kept going. He dropped his obi. And his tabards. And then he was shrugging his tunic off, too.</p><p>“Um, sir?” Cody asked weakly, eyes glued to his scandalously bare collarbones. </p><p>“Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” Kenobi said cheerfully, bending down <i>very</i> low to set his clothes on a bench and mercifully not taking note of his staring, drooling underlings or Cody’s full-body twitch. “I get hot when I spar, you see.”</p><p>“I’ll bet,” Crys whispered a little too loudly, and weathered a rain of elbows from brothers who didn’t want Obi-Wan noticing just how invested their rapidly-growing audience really was.</p><p>Kenobi plucked thoughtfully at his undershirt, as if contemplating taking that off, too, and the training room went silent as every single clone held his breath. Cody already felt a little weak-kneed at the sight of his bare arms, the thin visible strip of his muscular midriff and ginger happy trail. All he could think about was the time Rex got drunk enough to ask if his general’s carpet matched the drapes and Cody had reflexively smacked a hand over his mouth so hard he’d split his lip.</p><p>Well. Maybe not <i>wholly</i> reflexively. Rex should’ve known better than to ask that about another man’s general.</p><p>There was a collective and audible sigh of disappointment when their Jedi decided to keep the undershirt on, to which he looked around with a raised brow and a faintly confused expression. “You don’t all have to watch, you know, learning the katas isn’t mandatory.”</p><p>“We’re interested in seeing how Jedi spar, sir,” Longshot blurted, and received many discreet pats on the back for his quick thinking.</p><p>“Then I hope I don’t disappoint,” Kenobi said with a wink, and after that even Crys was too slack-jawed to make an inappropriate comment. Cody was going to die before he set foot on the mats, at this rate.</p><p>Cody soon realized that there was no way he was going to manage to win this. He might have been physically stronger than his Jedi, but Kenobi kept <i>quipping</i> and <i>grinning</i> and it was suddenly clear why he insisted on flirting with anyone he fought. It was a kriffing effective tactic, and even more distracting than the raucous cheers of their men.</p><p>His general managed to trip him up embarrassingly quickly, and as he fell Cody had a wild urge to pull him down on top— </p><p>So he grabbed for Obi-Wan’s broad freckled shoulders, but only caught at one strap of his undershirt. The old fabric gave way, Obi-Wan came down with it, and the room went deathly silent.</p><p>Cody was on his back on the mats, his general half on top of him, the undershirt ripped halfway down the middle, one pink nipple bared and mere inches from his hot face.</p><p>Kenobi froze, a cute red flush starting from his ears and traveling down, down, down— </p><p>Cody’s entire brain was zeroed in on the knee between his thighs, on what he might do to see that pale pink turn puffy and red.</p><p>“C-commander, my apologies,” Obi-Wan stuttered, not nearly as put together as he was even in the face of imminent death. He tried to stand, but Cody still had a death grip in the fabric and the undershirt ripped a little more, the sound incredibly loud in the quiet.</p><p>“Sorry, sir,” Cody managed to wheeze, letting go of his poor general’s much-abused garments. Kenobi pulled the strap back up, only for it to immediately slide back down his bicep. Someone made a noise like a wounded tooka.</p><p>“Well,” Kenobi said, clearing his throat and rising to his feet. He dusted himself off and offered Cody a hand, which Cody waved off. He didn’t trust himself to let go if he took it. “I’ll just—I’ll go clean up, then.” He speedwalked out of the gym, holding his undershirt closed over his torso like a ravished maiden. Kriff, the blush had reached his shoulders and it just made the freckles stand out more. He was so flustered he left his robe behind, though considering the rate at which he discarded robes that might have been a reflex. </p><p>As soon as the door closed behind him, Cody covered his burning face with his arms and groaned. The audience of vode, which had been as quiet and still as statues a second ago, burst into spontaneous applause.</p><p>As he tried and failed to ignore the cheers of <i>oya, al’verde!!</i> Cody knew that both he and his general were well and truly kriffed, for very different reasons.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ALL FUTURE SHIRTLESSNESS WILL BE WHOLLY CONSENSUAL, I PROMISE. This first one was a total (lucky) accident on the clones' part.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I upped the chapter count! Should be 4 at <i>most</i>. Maybe 5. IDFK don't hold me to that.</p><p>I don't think this chapter is as funny as the first one. The first section was an absolute blast to write but then Cody started pining and I got writer's block because I came VERY close to putting angst in my crackfic YET AGAIN and I didn't want to do that to y'all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You can’t name yourself Nipple,” someone hissed.</p><p>Cody stopped chewing his food, the brothers sitting near him going pale at the look on his face.</p><p>“Yes I can,” a shiny argued back, not nearly as quietly. “That was a <i>formative experience</i> for me. You can’t tell me what to name myself.”</p><p>The fork Cody was holding snapped in his grip.</p><p>“I don’t want to be known as the squadmate of some idiot who named himself after our general’s body parts,” a third vod grunted. “At least choose something <i>normal</i>. Like Dick.”</p><p>Cody stood up. Flinches visibly radiated across the mess hall, like ripples in a pond. His tablemates actually abandoned their food to get away from him; a remarkable feat, considering how territorial brothers tended to get about rations. (Except, of course, when Kenobi skipped yet another meal. Cody had once seen a few 212th and 501st clones get into a fight over who got to give him a ration bar. Cody had pulled rank, because feeding his general was <i>his</i> job—and then he’d lost out to Kix, who insisted that keeping the general well fed fell under the medic’s purview.)</p><p>“Maybe we can just rename the squad instead?” a fourth soon to be dead clone asked. “Nexu is a boring callsign anyway, but <i>Nipple—</i>”</p><p>His voice died in his throat when he looked up to see the commander of the entire battalion staring them down like he’d just run into Grievous and intended to fling their dismembered corpses at him until he surrendered.</p><p>The dressing down that followed was legendary, even by clone standards. (Which was saying something, considering that until Shaak Ti came around most disciplinary action led to getting decommissioned.)</p><p>“--AND ANYONE WHO EVEN <i>THINKS</i> THE WORD ‘NIPPLE’ IN FRONT OF GENERAL KENOBI IS GETTING JETTISONED OUT THE NEAREST AIRLOCK BY YOURS TRULY,” Cody finished, heaving like a bellows. </p><p>“...Thank you, commander, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”</p><p>Under any other circumstances, that voice would be more than welcome, but at the moment Cody would rather be fighting Ventress without backup. All around him, brothers were gaping in abject horror. </p><p>He turned around with agonized slowness, so different from his typical overeager about-face when his general approached him from behind.</p><p>Obi-Wan’s arms were crossed, his face straight, but the flush on his pale skin was bright as a flare. Even beyond the blaring panic taking over Cody’s brain, a traitorous little part of him remembered just how far that blush reached, what it looked like, wondered how warm it might feel against his hands, his mouth— </p><p>“Well, I’d meant to get dinner, but I can wait until you’ve settled your... disagreement.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat, shifted awkwardly on his feet, then left the mess without meeting anyone’s eyes.</p><p>It took the combined efforts of Wooley, Boil, Waxer, and Trapper to keep Cody from spacing himself.</p><p>-</p><p>Cody marched to the general’s quarters with all the solemnity of someone going to face a firing squad. Whenever he encountered a brother in the halls, they removed their helmets and bowed their heads, which wasn’t helping his nerves. Even so, it was better than the constant giggling he’d heard after the... Incident (capitalization karking warranted) in the gym.</p><p>Haran, a part of him knew where the shiny was coming from. He’d remember that for the rest of his miserable life, short though it might be. </p><p>(And Rex had never let him forget that he’d nearly named himself “Jedi” after that fateful day on Kamino. Alpha-17 had cured him of his temporary madness with a blow to the head during training, for which he would be forever grateful.)</p><p>He stood outside his Jedi’s door, braced himself, and rapped his knuckles on the door. He studiously ignored the patrol loitering at the end of the hallway, eyes likely glued on him beneath their helmets. Cody moved a little closer to the doorway to block it from view—the speed gossip circulated on the <i>Negotiator</i> was inversely proportional to its accuracy.  </p><p>“Just a second,” Kenobi called, and then a little later the door wooshed open and they were standing nose-to-nose. Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, breath soft on Cody’s lips, and Cody had to jump backwards to keep himself from doing something ill-advised.</p><p>The patrol had abandoned any pretense of doing their jobs and were now visibly craning their necks to watch the action. Cody was going to have all of them demoted. </p><p>“Apologies, sir!” he barked, wishing wretchedly that he’d worn his helmet as he felt heat crawling up his neck. Cody’s lips were tingling and he had to fight the impulse to touch them. Kenobi’s tunics were visibly askew, too, which was not karking helping.</p><p>“No, Cody, the fault is all mine,” Obi-Wan assured him, voice lilting over his name in the way that always made him preen. One of the many, many drawbacks of the promotions his general kept giving him was that he called him by his title as often as he could, as if to prove a point to the other nat borns. Well, it wasn’t always a drawback—when it was novel it had been especially… stimulating—but Cody liked it best when he said his name.</p><p>“Would you feel more comfortable having this discussion in my quarters or out here?” Kenobi asked, carefully polite, and Cody stiffened a little. Kenobi’s dressing downs were always quick and soft-spoken, and made him feel about two inches tall. He had no idea why Kenobi was even giving him an option, though perhaps their gawking spectators had a part in it.</p><p>Kriff. Considerate even after getting humiliated twice in front of the men. (Though the men certainly didn’t see it that way.) Cody had the best general in the GAR.</p><p>“I’d prefer your quarters, if it’s all the same to you, sir,” Cody said, and Kenobi stepped aside with a gracious nod, pointedly not touching his shoulder or his back to guide him in. Cody tried not to deflate too noticeably.</p><p>His general’s room was spartan even by Jedi standards, though just being trusted to enter such a personal space still made Cody’s insides squirm with pleasure even during hideously uncomfortable situations like this one. The river stone he’d kept on display had vanished after Skywalker’s knighting—a Jedi heirloom, maybe? Cody had no idea, it just looked like a rock to him—but there were still mounds of datapads and flimsiplast everywhere, which Cody might be impressed by if he hadn’t seen the state of Kenobi’s office. His eyes flicked to the meditation pad on the floor, worn thin with long use, and then guiltily stole a glance at the bed. It was rumpled and unmade, a discarded robe and a spare obi tossed over it, and it made Cody ache with desire for something he couldn’t allow himself to name, let alone imagine.   </p><p>“I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable standing, Cody, so I’ll make this quick,” Obi-Wan began, and Cody’s eyes tore themselves from his bed to meet his gaze, which was just as excruciating in such a small, intimate space. Their general had refused the larger ranking officer’s quarters, which now served as a rec room for the vode, and was instead using the room that would have gone to Commander Tano if she hadn’t ended up under Skywalker’s tutelage. </p><p>Obi-Wan paused to gather his thoughts, which was unusual for someone so silver-tongued. His cheeks were a little pink, which might have delighted Cody if he weren’t so mortified that his multiple kark-ups made his general so uncomfortable in his presence. </p><p>“General Kenobi, I—”</p><p>“I’d like to apologize,” Obi-Wan blurted, averting his sea-blue gaze and turning even pinker.</p><p>Cody had no idea what was going on. “Sir?”</p><p>He peeked up at him through his fringe, head lowered, and Cody swallowed his tongue. “I know the troopers have higher modesty standards than the Jedi, but it slipped my mind during the demonstrations and I am sorry for that. You don’t have to hide the men’s discomfort from me, Cody, truly.”</p><p>“What?” Cody asked, dropping the title in his abject confusion. They were <i>clones,</i> there was no <i>point</i> to modesty. They already knew exactly what every other vod looked like naked, and Cody had seen the bare ass of every single one of his batchmates (and Rex) more times than he could count.</p><p>“You don’t have to hide it, Cody, it’s more than all right,” Obi-Wan replied seriously, in the way he always did when he was trying to convince his men of their worth as individuals, but he was apparently doing it because he didn’t want to make his men uncomfortable by showing skin and Cody was going to <i>scream.</i> “I know the vast majority of you feel exposed without your armor.”</p><p>That was because of all the blaster fire and ambushes they got into, not a culturally significant reason like General Luminara and her commander. “Sir—”</p><p>“And I’m very sorry for all the… discomfort… my actions have caused. I didn’t expect such strong reactions, and you have my word that it won’t happen again.” He was smiling reassuringly, expression soft and apologetic, and Cody would have been tongue-tied if this wasn’t all about to ensure that he would <i>never see Obi-Wan shirtless.</i> </p><p>“That’s not it at all,” he blurted, knowing in that moment that if Obi-Wan started wearing <i>more</i> layers that every clone in the GAR would be baying for his blood. “Sir, we—we thought the Jedi were the ones with modesty standards!” </p><p>Kenobi blinked at him. “It varies depending on the sentient, Cody, you must have noticed—”</p><p>Cody had, in fact, noticed (General Fisto’s penchant for wearing tiny little shorts into battle meant he was a popular pinup, and there was no way General Secura didn’t know what her abs did to Bly), but the Jedi he <i>noticed</i> most often wore more layers than he had sense.</p><p>“But sir,” he interrupted, desperation overriding his typical strict adherence to codes of conduct, “that exhibition spar was the first time we’ve seen skin not on your face or hands! We keep covered out of necessity or <i>respect</i>, not because we’re <i>shy!</i>”</p><p>Kenobi blinked again, pink lips parted, and Cody had to tell himself not to stare. Then he realized that this was the loudest he’d ever gotten with his general when not under fire, and nearly drowned in another wave of mortification. How karking transparent could he get, panting after his general like a tooka during mating season and screaming about nipples?</p><p>“I wear layers for Anakin’s sake, actually,” Obi-Wan explained at last, amused. “He came to the temple late and thus had… different ideas about modesty than most Jedi. Desert planet, you know, smartest to keep all your skin covered. I didn’t dress like this all the time as a padawan, I can <i>assure</i> you.” He winked, voice reflexively flirtatious, and Cody’s mouth went dry. “Ahsoka nearly bit him when he tried to replace her entire wardrobe with ponchos.”</p><p>“I-it was good for morale, sir,” Cody admitted, sure even his scar was turning redder from all the blood rushing to his face. And it really had been, even without the gun show; the 212th loved their general. “Definitely not the layers, but training with us. We didn’t want to lose that. I heard a shiny make a tasteless joke and lost my cool.” <i>It</i> better <i>have been a joke.</i></p><p>“That’s quite all right, Cody,” Obi-Wan laughed, and Cody closed his eyes for a second to relish the sound. “I don’t mind the men having a little fun at my expense. It was a rather amusing situation, after all.”</p><p>“That’s one way to put it,” Cody rasped.</p><p>“Besides,” Obi-Wan said, finally clasping a hand on his shoulder, with a smile that made him melt, “it was good for my morale, as well.”</p><p>-</p><p>Cody told Waxer that the lessons would be continuing, knowing that was the quickest way to spread the news to every vod on board, and when the next session rolled around the gym was packed to the ceiling.</p><p>Delighted gasps echoed around the room as their general strode in wearing another faded undershirt, not even bothering to bring his other layers. Cody knew immediately that more than a few on-duty vode would have flimsy excuses for neglecting their jobs that day.</p><p>“No need to cover up on my account, if it’s too hot,” Obi-Wan announced, smiling winsomely, and then clones everywhere started shucking armor and fabric, so eager to get it off that a few literally ripped the tops off their blacks. Cody dodged a flying codpiece and wondered why the universe was out to get him.</p><p>He still ended up shirtless, though, and was sorely disappointed when Obi-Wan didn’t ask for another demonstration spar.</p><p>Once the lesson was finished and their Jedi had left for the sonics in his quarters, he overheard more than a few of his brothers talking very seriously about smuggling baby oil on board the next time they were planetside. The term “manscaping” was also tossed around more than he felt comfortable with. The newly-named Dick the shiny had to get carted off to the medbay after flexing so hard he pulled something; Cody felt absolutely no guilt about throwing him on Bones’s tender mercies. He would be in a very bad mood once he knew he had missed this; Kenobi religiously avoided medical attention as it was, and Bones was pining.</p><p>The barracks that evening were going to be a nightmare. He didn’t envy the cleaning droids one bit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I made Anakin a church lady. The ONLY time we see him without a turtleneck and several layers on is when he's in bed alone or with his wife. PRUDE SKYWALKER RIGHTS. Obi-Wan's outfit in TPM actually has a bit of a V-neck and just the one layer, and on a few Jedi Apprentice book covers I think he wore short sleeves a la Quinlan Vos, so now we have him adapting to his padawan's Sunday mass sensibilities because I think it'd be funny as fuck if Anakin slut shamed him into a more conservative wardrobe and it WORKED because he was NINE and Obi-Wan couldn't sleep around anymore because he was suddenly a single dad.</p><p>And yes, I did name the 212th medic after Dr. McCoy. I imagine Obi-Wan is the Kirk in this situation, which is appropriate because he ALSO gets his shirt ripped off a lot ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The chapter count went up again ;_; I am trapped in a prison of my own making and horny clones are holding my brain hostage</p><p>so this is probably the least humorous of all the chapters, but there's a lot more thirsting to make up for it. it's also longer than the other two so I hope the wait was worth it? I think I've gotten better at objectifying Obi-Wan so lmk</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Negotiator quickly devolved into chaos.</p><p>Never when they were in the middle of a campaign, of course—they still had <i>some</i> blood left in their brains, albeit not much. (The men also knew that Cody would kill them before the clankers could if they let their cocks sabotage the 212th’s sterling reputation in the field.)  </p><p>But hyperspace was fair game. And given how much time they spent jumping all over the galaxy, they spent a <i>lot</i> of time in hyperspace.</p><p>It started with the heating system. Some di’kut had gotten it into their head to make the gym the warmest room on the ship at all times, and none of the engineers were in a hurry to fix the situation. Cody still had no idea how the hell they’d managed it in deep kriffing space. He still froze his balls off in his bunk every night, but whenever he was in the gym he felt like he was planetside, and not on Hoth, either. </p><p>The gym uniform for the 212th quickly became just the bottoms of their blacks and a healthy slathering of baby oil, which Waxer was making a killing on. (Not to mention his consulting services when it came to grooming more delicate areas. He had his name for a reason, after all.) Cody had men searching for the contraband, but he had a sinking feeling it was a lost cause considering how slippery they all looked during Kenobi’s lessons.</p><p>Of course, he was a little less inclined to complain about the heat once Kenobi showed up in shorts, but it was the principle of the thing. Or something. </p><p>(Cody didn’t have a lot of blood left in his brain, either.)</p><p>So he ignored what little decorum he had left and memorized the sight of his general with sweaty hair and a heat-flushed face once he’d been put on his back on the mats yet again. Cody was holding his own for much longer, because he had <i>some</i> pride, but the katas had been second nature to his general since childhood and Cody was about as Force sensitive as a very determined brick. Gravity liked him a lot better than it did Kenobi. </p><p>Some of the other clones were starting to grow restless. The obvious ploy to see Kenobi half-naked hadn’t worked, even if the brothers who had a thing for thighs were <i>very</i> happy campers at the moment. Dick the shiny was visibly pining for his original namesake, which he claimed he had a much better chance of seeing than the much loftier goal of his new one. </p><p>(They were a good-looking pair of thighs, considering how much jumping around their Jedi did. They felt even better flexing against him on the mat, but Cody might actually have a mutiny on his hands if he mentioned that little factoid. He sometimes heard Boil and Waxer plotting to overthrow him as Kenobi’s de-facto sparring partner, which would only happen over his cold karking carcass.)</p><p>Cody rolled to his feet and stretched. He may or may not have been doing so in a way that showed off the impressive musculature of his arms and shoulders. “Would you like to go again, sir?” he challenged, probably a little too eagerly for someone who Kenobi had just finished wiping the floor with.</p><p>“General,” Longshot cut in before Obi-Wan could respond, “Do you think you could show us how to fight off multiple attackers? You’ve only been going up against the commander all this time.”</p><p>Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard while Cody glared at Longshot, who met his gaze defiantly. Apparently the men weren’t content to let him hog their Jedi any longer. Cody had thought it would take at least a few more lessons to get to this point, but he’d overestimated their patience and underestimated their libidos.</p><p>“Yeah, we’ve been watching you pound the commander into the floorboards for the past few lessons. You can take more than one of us, can’t you?” Crys asked, smirking.</p><p>“Shut <i>up,</i> di’kut,” Trapper hissed, jabbing an elbow that slid right off Crys’s well-oiled bicep.</p><p>“Well, I suppose,” Obi-Wan drawled, eyes glittering in a way that usually spelled trouble but just made everyone in the room lean in. “Cody, you can sit this one out. I’ve been working you too hard.”</p><p>“If you say so, sir,” Cody said through gritted teeth. He was sorely tempted to put both Longshot and Crys on latrine duty for the foreseeable future.</p><p>“Why not me and Boil, sir?” Waxer called, seizing the moment. “We’re pretty good at tag-teaming.” He shot Crys a covert thumbs up and dodged a smack from Boil, who nonetheless looked as eager as he ever did.</p><p>Scratch that. He was putting <i>all</i> of them on latrine duty. Forever.</p><p>“All right, if you’d like,” Kenobi decided. Boil and Waxer high fived discreetly. </p><p>The general lifted the hem of his undershirt to wipe the sweat from his face, immediately capturing the full attention of every vod in the room. Eyes strained and brothers jostled for a better view. Dick the shiny was foaming at the mouth, because Kenobi had ducked his head just enough to conceal his chest from view— </p><p>—and then he gave it up as a lost cause and peeled it off entirely.</p><p>The oxygen fled the room. The loud whooshing sound from all around him suggested that it had been sucked up entirely by his brothers.</p><p>“Does anyone know why it’s so hot in here?” Kenobi complained. “I’m Stewjoni, I’m built for colder temperatures.”</p><p>“Sorry, sir,” a solitary clone muttered. Cody might have taken the opportunity to nab the culprit but he was too busy staring at this new feast for the eyes.</p><p>Obi-Wan’s naked torso had been haunting his dreams ever since that first spar, but to have it willingly bared to them—<i>displayed</i> for his men without a second thought— </p><p>Force almighty.</p><p>A little gratitude mixed with his roaring, clawing envy of Waxer and Boil. He thought he might die of shame on the spot if Kenobi felt the hard-on he was suddenly sporting. (He’d borrowed one of the good smut holos last night to <i>avoid</i> this sort of thing. If he’d taken any more “preventative measures” he would’ve had to pay a visit to Bones for the chafing.)</p><p>“Uh—” Boil said, voice shriller than Cody had ever heard it. Waxer was silent for once, mouth hanging open a little.</p><p>“Well?” Kenobi asked, spreading his arms wide, leaving himself open, defenseless, inviting. “Have at me.”</p><p>No vod in the entire GAR would be able to resist an order like <i>that.</i></p><p>It was more than Waxer and Boil who ended up in the final dogpile, Kenobi pinned at the bottom and groaning in a way that had Cody crossing his legs. </p><p>“Impressive,” he said breathlessly. “I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting an ambush from all sides. We should implement this in battle somehow.”</p><p>“We have, sir,” Trapper said, voice low and rough. “On Grievous.”</p><p>Their general laughed quietly at that, turning his head to grin up at Cody. Cody felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Your idea, I’ll presume?”</p><p>Cody licked his lips and finally found his voice. “Get the kark off the general! He didn’t agree to fighting five of us!”</p><p>“Oh I’ll get off, all right,” Crys muttered, sprawled over the Jedi’s powerful legs to keep him from kicking.</p><p>Cody put him on latrine duty for a week.</p><p>-</p><p>The next victim was the general’s refresher. </p><p>Nat born officers had access to water showers in addition to sonics. Cody technically did, too, thanks to Kenobi’s aggressive promotions, but indulged only when on leave on Coruscant. Once the original commanding officer’s quarters had been converted into a rec room, the one water shower was available on a first come, first served basis, provided that there was a water surplus.</p><p>Kenobi, as far as Cody could tell, never took water showers on board, either. The sonics always left his hair ruffled and his skin looking dry and irritated, but the only time his battalion got to see him with his hair damp was on planets with heavy rainfall. (Cody, whose first sight of his general was when he was dripping wet, looked forward to those planets no matter how miserable the conditions might be. The clones had all grown up on Kamino, they could take it.)</p><p>“Sir,” Wooley ventured one evening, having snagged a coveted place at Kenobi’s table in the mess. An appearance by their general at mealtimes was rare, not because he was a snob but because he skipped meals whenever absorbed by work or a project. Cody, who had hunted his Jedi down and sat right next to him on the bench, was feeling very accomplished. “Did you get sunburnt, last time we were dirtside?” None of the vode burned under intense starlight. Seeing how easily it happened to Obi-Wan made them all very grateful for Jango’s skintone. </p><p>Their general stopped scratching at a reddish patch of skin on the inside of his wrist. His entire face was pink, which Cody mournfully suspected was not actually from embarrassment, or at least not totally. “No, Wooley, I’m afraid I just get like this if I use the sonics for too long. My skin is fairly sensitive.”</p><p>“You could use the water shower, sir,” Cody pointed out, trying not to sound too eager. Besides, he didn’t like the idea of Obi-Wan denying himself anything, even if the fact that he was willing to do it for them all made his heart swell. There was precious little a clone could do to pamper a Jedi, but the 212th was more than willing to try.</p><p>“You <i>should</i> use the water shower,” Bones harrumphed, from where he was sandwiching Kenobi on his other side. “If you won’t use my medbay I insist that you avoid causing yourself any more unnecessary damage than you already do.”</p><p>“That’s quite all right, gentlemen,” Kenobi demurred. “I wouldn’t want to waste water. Anakin was always hounding me about my showers taking too long when he was a padawan. And I know you like to use the water shower in your rec room, when you can.”</p><p>“It’s technically your room and your shower, sir,” Dick the shiny pointed out eagerly, having abandoned his squad’s usual table the second he saw Kenobi enter the room. The rest of them were glowering enviously from across the room. “You should use it! Whenever you feel like. We’ll be quiet when you’re in there, promise.”</p><p>“Thank you, Dick,” the general said, smiling bemusedly at Dick’s thrilled little wriggle at being addressed by name, “But I don’t mind a little discomfort if it means you all get to indulge.”</p><p>“It would <i>be</i> an indulgence to see—” Crys began from the end of the table, and would have been stabbed with a fork by his squadmate Vicious if Longshot hadn’t shoved him bodily off the bench. (Longshot was steadily working his way back into Cody’s good graces.)</p><p>“Hey, no breaking him, I’m the one who has to put him back together,” Bones snarled, pressing even closer to their Jedi to shield him from the splatter of food from Crys’s plate, which had gone flying. Crys yelled something vulgar and gave chase. “I already have to treat you idiots for all the karking <i>chafing,</i> if you break a bone in the kriffing mess hall I <i>will</i> hurt you worse.”</p><p>Obi-Wan, by now resigned to the unique sibling dynamics of his men during down time, just placidly spooned more nutrient mush into his mouth. Cody shuffled a little closer too. His general had just showered, after all, they needed to keep him clean.</p><p>“Me ‘n the boys can take a look at your ‘fresher, general, maybe turn down the intensity a little,” Handy, the head of mechanics, offered.</p><p>“If it’s not too much trouble,” Kenobi said hesitantly, and Handy beamed.</p><p>“No trouble at all, sir!”</p><p>Cody gritted his teeth.  Handy just wanted to see the inside of his quarters, the nerf herder. Usually it was only <i>Cody</i> who went inside. </p><p>Kenobi absently patted Cody’s knee where it was pressed against his own, and Cody’s bad mood abruptly vanished.</p><p>“But you’re always welcome to use the shower in the rec room, if you want to, sir,” Trapper said, seizing the sliver of bench Crys had previously occupied and raising his voice to be heard over his affronted yelp. “It’s real nice, bigger than the usual tube, and it’s got great water pressure.”</p><p>“Maybe, if my own ‘fresher is ever out of order,” Kenobi replied, and Longshot bent his head towards Handy’s and started to whisper.</p><p>Predictably, Handy sent Careless to fix their Jedi’s sonics, and he ended up destroying the entire refresher. Cody might have been impressed at the sheer carnage wrought if he didn’t suspect that most of it was done on purpose. </p><p>The rec room was incredibly crowded the next night. Cody managed to secure a seat on the single battered couch, which was somehow still intact by some miracle of the Force, though he’d nearly had to pull rank to do it. The shinies were getting defiant; it usually only took a quirk of the eyebrow. If his men ever overthrew him it would all be Obi-Wan’s fault. </p><p>Their Jedi wandered in carrying a towel about half an hour later, and the room had only gotten more crowded in the meantime. He was rubbing at his mouth thoughtfully; maybe he was trying to figure out why there was a line out the door. As always, the 212th parted before him where before navigating the room would have been impossible, even for Cody.</p><p>“I saved the ‘fresher for you, general!” Gearshift called from where he was guarding the door like a bouncer, and preened when Obi-Wan gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder. The general turned, raising an eyebrow when the vode hastily averted their avid stares, then closed the door behind him.</p><p>Conversation in the rec room was quieter than Cody had ever heard it, ears straining for more than the faint hiss of the showerhead. He was sucked into a conversation with Boil about the stupidest thing they’d ever seen a clanker do (his Rishi moon story was always a crowd pleaser) when they heard their general start to hum.</p><p>The only brother on the Negotiator who sang in the shower with any regularity was Screech, who typically did it to clear the room when he wanted to jack off in peace. This was different. It was sweet and soft and it made Cody want nothing more than to move closer so he could hear better. He hadn’t known his Jedi could sing. </p><p>He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. </p><p>They sat there listening, entranced. Someone tried to hum along and was mercilessly silenced. Someone else whispered <i>how is he so perfect at everything he does</i> and was met with sage nods. Another person muttered <i>think he takes requests?</i> and got their foot stomped on.</p><p>Obi-Wan’s humming eventually died down, and the conversation came back, though no one was paying much attention. A few brothers were playing cards and somehow all of them were losing. The general was taking his time, and being able to give him this small indulgence put smiles on all their faces even as impatience ate them alive. </p><p>Finally, the shower stopped, killing the conversation entirely. After a few silent minutes with their eyes all glued on the ‘fresher door, Kenobi emerged. In nothing but a towel.</p><p>His skin was still wet and flushed from the hot water, droplets beading in the hollows of his collarbones and sliding down his torso. One dripped off his pebbled nipple. Another fell into the cut of his adonis belt as Cody watched, mouth dry. He could fix that so easily, and Obi-Wan was still soaking, surely he wouldn’t mind if Cody licked a few off— </p><p>“Apologies, I’m not used to showering outside of my quarters. I forgot to bring a change of clothes,” their general chuckled self-consciously, raising a hand to push his wet hair back. It looked more brown than copper when wet, and Cody catalogued the differences from the first time he’d seen him. A few more crows feet, some gray at the temples, but still breathtakingly beautiful. </p><p>The movement of his arm dislodged the towel, still heavy with water, and it slid down for a heart-stopping moment before Kenobi caught it, narrowly avoiding giving his men even more of a show than he already was. (Someone whimpered. It might have been Cody.)</p><p>“Well,” he said, shifting his weight, then started for the door. Clones scrambled back clumsily, as if frightened to break the spell with their touch. His lower back had two little dimples that Cody wanted to press his thumbs into, and he had to sit on his hands to keep himself from reaching out. </p><p>He paused by the door, looking over one bare shoulder with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to take so long, truly.”</p><p>“It’s no problem, general,” Boil said hoarsely. </p><p>“What was that song you were humming? It sounded really nice,” Trapper blurted, then looked like he wanted to bury his face in his hands.</p><p>“Oh, you heard that?” Obi-Wan asked, with a bashful, embarrassed smile. “It’s a fairly profane drinking song that Vos taught me as a padawan. Hardly something I’d call nice, but thank you for the compliment.”</p><p>“It did sound nice,” Waxer insisted. “You should hum more often, sir.”</p><p>“You don’t need to flatter me, Waxer, I already like you,” their Jedi teased, and Waxer’s face lit up, grinning goofily and too flustered to respond. “Apologies for using up the hot water. If my ‘fresher stays broken too much longer I might have to join you men in the communal sonics.” He didn’t look back when he stepped out into the hallway, which was good because the identical expressions of dumbstruck lust on all their faces might be difficult to explain away.</p><p>They sat there, frozen, for nearly a full minute, until Cody said, voice deep and strained, “Careless.”</p><p>“On it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im just giving up on chapter count for the time being ;_; it WONT be more than 6. it better not be fuckin more than 6 i swear to christ</p><p>sorry about the wait! this fic is fun but it's very difficult to write. there's also very little obi-wan in this chapter but i hope you still enjoy. i wanted to show how the 212th currently looks from the outside, so long as the outside is also hot for obi-wan kenobi</p><p>im looking forward to anakin showing up next chapter. hes going full church lady</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something was up with the 212th.</p><p>It took a while for the rest of the GAR to notice, because Cody would never let anything throw his men off their game in the field, but inevitably the cracks started to show, and Rex was starting to get suspicious.</p><p>The 212th had a reputation for stoic professionalism, even as they were punching out clankers and full-body tackling Grievous. Cody and Kenobi were a lethal pair—they had a knack for making their plans sound reasonable no matter how jaro they actually were, so of course their men were just as gifted at masking their crazy. </p><p>Or at least they used to be.</p><p>The 501st usually worked closely with the 212th, as they made up both halves of the Open Circle fleet, and it wasn’t exactly uncommon for them to swap generals or Jedi commanders if the situation called for it. (Rex and his boys typically looked forward to those missions, even if it was exhausting keeping Hardcase from doing anything stupid in a fit of Kenobi-induced lust. They’d all been there, but they were also familiar enough with Cody’s vindictive streak to leave well enough alone. Besides, they could always count on holos and colorful stories if they got the 212th drunk enough.)</p><p>But the 212th suddenly and collectively <i>lost their kriffing minds.</i></p><p>Campaigns that would usually take months were completed in double time. Rex personally witnessed their shinies ripping clankers apart bare-handed as a bizarre sort of induction ritual. Echo remarked on how easily each of them could backflip in full armor, which every single 501st vod had seen someone in 212th gold pull off mid-combat at least once. Fives swore up and down that they were learning Jedi tricks on the sly. Rex hysterically wondered where Cody found the time to put each and every one of his men through ARC training.</p><p>And they got… weird about General Kenobi. Weirder, anyway.</p><p>Where before they viewed Kenobi with loyalty that verged on fanatical, they always seemed to keep him at a distance. He was gorgeous, every clone was in firm agreement on that, but he was first and foremost a Jedi—the youngest master in a century, the youngest to be put on the council in longer, the first to defeat a Sith in a thousand years. Rex couldn’t imagine bantering with him the way he did with Tano or Skywalker, even if he and Cody had an understated rapport and Alpha-17 never stopped smugly “griping” about their long partnership. It was hard to divorce the man from the legend.</p><p>But apparently not for the 212th, or at least not anymore. Sure, the almost-reverence was still there, particularly among their shinies, but. </p><p>Well, they’d gotten really goddamn touchy.</p><p>Rex had always thought of touch as something that Kenobi avoided, something that he <i>bestowed</i> upon the clones when they needed a morale boost. It was Kenobi more often than not who checked in on the 501st after rough missions, not Skywalker. Skywalker could rile the men up but it was Kenobi who grounded them after they’d stared their own mortality in the face, after they’d lost brothers. (Rex would never forget how envious he’d felt after that awful mission with the blue shadow virus, Kenobi checking on his shinies and even <i>him</i> like he did it all the time, and in that moment he’d almost wished he wore 212th gold.)</p><p>But now, instead of waiting for the rare occasions that Kenobi might deign to touch them, the 212th were just. Doing it. For no reason. All the time.</p><p>Shinies touched his shoulder or his elbow to ask mundane questions they <i>should</i> have been asking a much lower officer. Bones tried to physically manhandle him into the medtent after every skirmish. (Kix had nearly passed out the first time he witnessed this.) Waxer and Boil took to flanking him during meals, touching his back or his arms when they passed him rations, pressing their thighs to his even if they had plenty of room. Trapper <i>took</i> his <i>hand</i> to help him down from transports, as if he were a delicate senator and not a Jedi general who regularly flung himself off buildings and cliffs. It seemed like Kenobi couldn’t go more than a few minutes without one or more of his men finding some excuse to touch him.</p><p>But by far the worst was Cody.</p><p>He’d taken “faithful shadow” to a whole new level. Whenever he escorted the general anywhere he was right at his side, their shoulders brushing. His default defensive position was one hand on his blaster and the other on the small of Kenobi’s back. He took his elbow whenever he needed the general’s attention, caught him bridal style if he witnessed Kenobi jumping off something high again, and after a battle Rex once saw him <i>tuck Kenobi’s lightsaber into his belt</i> instead of putting it in his hand like a normal person. Once, when Rex was heading back to his bed roll after taking watch, he’d found Kenobi poring over battleplans until Cody quietly brushed his hair from his face and told him to go to sleep. Hell, that last one had given <i>Rex</i> butterflies, and Cody was even more gone on his general than Bly was on Secura.</p><p>And what was worse was it was clear that Kenobi relished the casual touches of his men. He relaxed into them, smiled at them, sometimes even touched them in turn. Sometimes his eyes sparkled. It was really doing a number on Rex’s self-control. He took to keeping his hands behind his back when Kenobi was within arm’s length.</p><p>(Once he’d made to clap Kenobi on the shoulder after a successful mission and Cody’s glare had nearly frozen him solid. Kenobi hadn’t noticed. Rex had thought about what it might have felt like for days afterward, if Kenobi might have done the same or grinned at him like he did at the shinies or when Crys made a bawdy joke.)</p><p>This all might—<i>might</i>—be tolerable if he could still get his fix like the brothers unfortunate enough not to serve regularly with Kenobi. The 212th had a monopoly, but they could easily be bribed into sharing holos or anecdotes or combat footage, though closeups or recordings where his voice was audible could be pricey.</p><p>So of course those sleemos <i>stopped kriffing sharing.</i> </p><p>Gleeful drunken anecdotes were replaced with smug silence and knowing looks. Open speculation on the general’s numerous physical abilities was replaced with hushed whispering and besotted giggles. When a batchmate of a 212th shiny named Dick had asked him for a discount, he’d smirked and said, “The general doesn’t like us taking holos when he’s all sweaty and worked up.” No amount of bribery or physical violence could convince him to elaborate. </p><p>They might have been able to take their own karking holos if they were able to get near the man, but the only ones who could be around Kenobi anymore were commanding officers, and they couldn’t exactly record and disseminate strategy meetings. That was a security risk. The rest of the time, Kenobi was surrounded by elbow-happy 212th boys who had forgotten how to karking share.</p><p>“Thish can’ continue,” slurred Gree, brandishing his neon yellow cocktail. Around him a few other CCs on leave (plus Rex and minus Cody, who had not been invited) nodded in solemn, drunken agreement.</p><p>“‘Snot fair,” lamented Fox. “You guys get to work with him, we don’ see him ‘less he’s visitin’ Organa. We <i>need</i> th’holos.” He drained Wolffe’s glass. Wolffe shrugged and started drinking out of his.</p><p>“Gotta have a plan of attack,” Bly said grimly. “Gotta—gotta storm their base.”</p><p>“No use,” groaned Rex. “Hav’n been on the Negoat—the Noshit—the ship in ages. S’like Cody’s doin’ it on purpose.”    </p><p>“‘E’s sush a bassard,” Wolffe hiccupped. “Always sush a bassard, even when ‘e was shiny. Then ‘e gets the hottest gen’ral?”</p><p>“‘M allus stuck with Yoda. Yoda’s not hot,” Gree said sadly.</p><p>“Least ‘e isn’ <i>Palpatine</i>,” Fox said, and was met with a chorus of sympathetic hissing. Rex thought it was kind of funny, because Fox was also a bastard, but wisely kept that opinion to himself.</p><p>“Aayla’s mad too,” Bly whispered, somehow more loudly than when he spoke normally. “Pawadans—paddywins—them ‘n the younger knights like the combat footage, too.” He sighed dreamily. “We used to watch it together, sometimes.” </p><p>“Gross,” Fox complained, further cementing his bastard status. Bullying Bly for his crush on Secura had been fun at first, but it had gone on for so long that it was a bit pathetic. </p><p>Besides, he was having more luck with her than any of them were with Kenobi at the moment. Or at least anyone not in the 212th.</p><p>“S-sometimes the fie-oh-firs’ gets ‘im to ourselfs,” Rex confided, and was immediately drowned out by accusations of bragging. He might have done so in the past (and so had the rest of the 501st, come to think of it), but he was suffering from withdrawal just as much as the rest of them! Maybe even more so, considering how much more contact he used to have with Kenobi! “<i>Lissen,</i> you guys. Shut up for a momen’.”</p><p>“<i>You</i> shuddup,” Fox muttered, and Wolffe helpfully dumped the rest of his drink over his head. </p><p>“Thanks, Wolffe,” Rex said, as Fox fruitlessly tried to keep his new dye job from running with a multitude of napkins. “<i>Any</i>way, what ‘m <i>sayin’</i> izzat I can do recon, nex’ time. I c’n figure out whass goin’ on. They can’ keep ‘im to themselves forever.”</p><p>“Thass actually a really good idea,” said Gree. “Never woulda guessed you 501st meatheads had it in ya.”</p><p>“Thank you, that’s real nice of ya ta say,” said Rex, touched.</p><p>“Anytime.” </p><p>They went back to drinking in earnest, but not before Rex made sure to send several enthusiastic comms outlining his brilliant plan to the entire 501st. Clearly things could only improve from here on out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not much puritan anakin in this one, but there is more coming!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In some ways, Obi-Wan reflected, being the 212th’s general was nearly as confusing and exasperating as being Anakin’s master had been. (And still was, to be completely honest.)</p><p>Obi-Wan knew his men worried about him when his duties separated them. He felt the same, to the point he had to be careful that he didn’t cross the line from affection for the 212th to outright attachment. However, he’d rarely seen his men so openly displeased before, even in the direst of odds. They took their duty as seriously as he himself did, and complained <i>less</i> the grimmer the circumstances; they just looked to him for guidance and followed his orders faithfully, <i>trusting</i> him no matter how many of them died to carry them out.</p><p>Obi-Wan was no stranger to being humbled, but their loyalty took his breath away no matter how many times he’d experienced it.</p><p>With that in mind, perhaps it was less strange that they were whining like younglings about taking leave without him.</p><p>“I just don’t see why we have to,” Boil harrumphed, sitting half on Waxer’s lap in order to fit in the tight squeeze at Obi-Wan’s now-habitual table in the mess. He privately thought it was very sweet that they worked so hard to make him feel welcome. He’d take a single meal with his men, commiserating about the tasteless food, over a thousand fancy dinners with various senators and ambassadors. </p><p>“Yeah!” Gearshift said, thumping the table for emphasis. “And what if the general needs us? What then?”</p><p>“Everyone needs us, we’re the best battalion in the damn GAR!” Dick boasted, prompting a wave of cheers that even Obi-Wan nodded along to with a broad smile. (He’d had perhaps a nip more of Handy’s starshine than he should have.) “Who else could keep up with the best Jedi in the galaxy?”</p><p>“I don’t think—” Obi-Wan began, flushed. </p><p>Crys, who had been banished from the bench by Longshot for a muttered comment Obi-Wan hadn’t caught, took that moment to lean over his head, squeezing his shoulders as he did so. “And we all know those boys in blue don’t have the <i>stamina</i> to keep up with our General Kenobi, do they?”</p><p>There were many jeers about the 501st’s lacking physical attributes at this pronouncement, Careless raising his starshine in a toast and slopping most of it over poor Wooley. At least he was shirtless, and thus wouldn’t have to wash it out of his blacks. (Clones in various states of undress were an increasingly common sight everywhere on the ship these days, though Obi-Wan was glad they felt comfortable enough around him to not wear their dress uniforms full time. He was also self-aware enough to admit that he enjoyed the view.)</p><p>“Now, now, your brothers in the 501st are all fine soldiers and even finer men,” Obi-Wan felt compelled to say. He knew their sibling rivalry was good-natured, even if the insults about their virility and the various functions related to it were all curiously vehement, but he was too used to hearing ignorant senators and non-Jedi military personnel to let a comment disparaging a clone slide. Besides, he worked closely with the 501st, and was nearly as fond of them as he was the 212th. </p><p>“And you do realize,” he added, with a wicked grin, “when you insult certain parts of their anatomy, you deliver the same insult unto yourselves?” Oh, dear, that starshine was dangerous. But he’d been flirting often, as of late, even when he was fully sober. Not that the target of his affections seemed to notice.</p><p>“Trust us,” Crys said, beginning to knead out the crick in his neck, “We know how to use ours better.”</p><p>This was moving rapidly from harmless banter to drunken innuendos he was sure they would all be embarrassed about the next morning. “Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves on your leave.”</p><p>Obi-Wan was not unaware of the effect his appearance had on people. He wouldn’t flirt during fights so often if it weren’t a tried and true tactic. He enjoyed bantering with both friend and foe, and he considered the 212th to be his friends. Besides, it so delighted them when he joined in on their jokes and games; who was he to deny them what little joy they could find in the universe? </p><p>It was like when Yoda would join in on the pranks they played in the creche, or the rare occasions when Mace relaxed enough to recite monologues from his brief tenure in the theater; Obi-Wan was well aware of the thrill people got from coaxing an authority figure into play along. It wasn’t something they would have been able to experience on Kamino.</p><p>The sex jokes were new, but he was reasonably sure that bawdy ribbing was normal in military settings. Considering that they mostly interacted with their own brothers, it wasn’t surprising that the clones would leap at the chance to practice chatting up any available natborn. Obi-Wan wouldn’t let it inflate his ego; he was excruciatingly aware that none of them were attracted to him enough to actually pursue him, no matter how many hints he dropped to his newest infatuation.</p><p>Said infatuation was currently pacing the mess hall like an agitated Loth wolf, no doubt agonized by Obi-Wan’s breach of professionalism but too dutiful to voice his complaints. Dear Cody really did toe the line for the strangest things, though Obi-Wan supposed he had no room to talk.</p><p>“We don’t even <i>need</i> leave,” Vicious growled, stabbing his rations like they’d drawn a blaster on him. “We were engineered for this, right?”</p><p>“Even so, you’re human beings and you deserve to rest,” Obi-Wan said sternly, reaching across the table to ease the cutlery from his white-knuckled grip, for fear it would snap again. He dropped it instantly to grab Obi-Wan’s hand, instead. It was no wonder his brothers gave him such a wide berth, he was cuddlier than an octopus.</p><p>“So do you!” Bones countered, stroking his fringe back so he could more easily examine his face. “Look at the dark circles under those baby blues, sir, you’re exhausted. You need a break and some TLC.”</p><p>“How are we supposed to relax when you don’t, general?” Trapper said, sneaking the last packet of muja jelly onto Obi-Wan’s tray as if he wouldn’t notice the extra dessert. </p><p>“I’m on the council, Trapper, exhaustion comes with the territory. I’ve survived worse,” Obi-Wan replied, smiling when Trapper went pink with pleasure at hearing his name. He never tired of how much the clones treasured their names, to the point of getting flustered when he used them; it made him appreciate his own more.</p><p>“You shouldn’t have to,” Cody announced, and the hall went silent. “We survived a lot of that <i>with</i> you. I know how it wears on you, how you keep pulling the worst missions. You haven’t had a break since the start of the war, and Skywalker seems to have one every few months! You could file a complaint in the senate, Fox knows all about the protocols, maybe get the chancellor to let you off for once—”</p><p>“Commander,” Obi-Wan said firmly, and Cody’s mouth snapped shut. “I go where I’m needed. This is my duty as a Jedi and a servant of the Republic. The Order’s position is tenuous as it is, and I won’t jeopardize it for something as petty as wanting a break.” </p><p>The mood was thoroughly ruined as soon as he pulled rank, so Obi-Wan extricated himself and strode from the mess hall before he could further wreck his battalion’s last night aboard the Negotiator for the next week. They would be arriving on Coruscant tomorrow, and he’d been neglecting his paperwork in order to invade his soldiers’ space.</p><p>He heard footsteps hurrying after him, and he reached out to feel Cody’s Force signature despite himself. He felt irritated and anxious and so sincerely worried it made Obi-Wan’s chest ache.</p><p>“Sir, I’m sorry, I was out of line—”</p><p>“It’s fine, Commander. I can understand your reservations,” Obi-Wan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “But I assure you that I will not allow my fatigue to endanger the men. I can draw upon the Force for help, worst comes to worst. But please don’t question my capabilities in front of them, it’s bad for morale.”</p><p>“General, I trust you completely,” Cody said, hands flexing at his sides and leaning slightly into Obi-Wan’s grip. “The men are the same. We’re <i>worried</i> for you. It’s not safe to put you in such dangerous situations, over and over again, sometimes alone or with people who haven’t been trained to support you.” His gaze was boring into Obi-Wan’s, amber and heated and so sincere, and the Jedi had to struggle not to let his breath catch. </p><p>“Cody, I’ll be <i>fine.</i> This is far from the first time I’ve worked with another general’s men. Besides, I work well with the 501st, and Captain Rex will look after me.” He gave into temptation, and let his free hand come up to touch Cody’s other shoulder. </p><p>“Oh, I’m <i>sure</i> he will,” Cody muttered. “I just wish it was me watching your six.”</p><p>Obi-Wan closed his eyes, just for a second. It was moments like this that he desperately wished that Cody felt more for him than the affection between comrades and friends. </p><p>But that wasn’t the case; after all, Cody’s affection for him was no different than many other clones Obi-Wan worked closely with. And, while the depths of their loyalty and respect for him sometimes gave him pause, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that so many people could love him.</p><p>-</p><p>Rex woke up with a massive headache and an even more massive dick drawn on his face.</p><p>Five minutes of frantic scrubbing later, he still looked a bit like something a bantha shat out, but at least the dick was gone. Rex resolved to never go drinking with the CCs again, even for Kenobi. (He had very little memory of what, exactly, he’d done last night, but he was certain Kenobi had been the main topic of conversation. He often was, but alcohol had a way of turning thoughts into words even when they shouldn’t.)</p><p>So it was a surprise when he left the fresher and finally noticed what his brothers were wearing.</p><p>Rex blinked. Coughed. Seriously considered deserting, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.</p><p>How the kriff had they managed to keep their codpieces on without the rest of the armor? <i>Glue?</i></p><p>“WHAT THE KARK IS GOING ON HERE?” Rex bellowed. The mostly-naked, strangely glistening masses gathered in the barracks jumped to attention. More than one codpiece lost the fight with gravity and clattered to the ground, but unfortunately his men were too well-trained to let a little thing like flashing a superior officer stop them from saluting him. Rex desperately wished that he’d died last night of alcohol poisoning. </p><p>“Well?” he barked, when no answer was forthcoming.</p><p>“Following orders, sir!” replied a shiny, his salute Kamino-perfect and his pecs distressingly oily. Rex felt cold just looking at him.</p><p>“What? What orders involve whipping out your junk in front of a superior officer?”</p><p>The shiny finally broke and scrambled for his fallen codpiece as his squaddies sniggered behind him.</p><p>“Your orders, sir,” Tup pointed out, codpiece thankfully still in place, though Rex was damned if he knew how he’d managed it. “You said to leave the rest of our armor off and put the codpieces on after the baby oil—”</p><p>“Baby oil?” Rex echoed faintly.</p><p>“Well, vegetable oil,” Fives clarified. “Apparently there’s a critical shortage of baby oil on Coruscant? I could only appropriate the funds for this on such short notice but it’s basically the same thing, right?” </p><p>“Fives! The captain’s orders <i>specifically</i> called for baby oil—” began Dogma, all righteous indignation and shining abs.</p><p>“Kriff the oil, when’s General Kenobi getting here?” Hardcase cut in eagerly, even though he was practically gleaming with the stuff.</p><p>Even the mention of his name was enough to send the barracks into pandemonium, shinies who’d never met the man looking about in confusion as everyone strove to make their opinion known on this operation Rex had apparently devised while blitzed out of his mind. </p><p>“Are you really sure the general will buy this, captain? There’s nothing in the regs about oiling up before medical inspections,” Echo was dithering.</p><p>“What the medic says, goes!” Kix reassured him, shouting to be heard over the noise. “I’ll just say it helps dermal integrity or something. And, uh, all being naked at once helps camaraderie?”</p><p>“In that case, the captain needs to strip down and oil up,” Jesse announced, and suddenly Rex was fighting desperately to keep his blacks from getting ripped off by his subordinates.</p><p>“C’mon, sir, this was all <i>your</i> idea—” Hawk said accusingly, yanking at his pants as Fives nearly hanged him with his own shirt, Rex struggling against the shinies that he could’ve sworn were terrified of him a minute ago—</p><p>“Good morning, men!” General Skywalker said, expression shifting from obnoxiously cheerful to scandalized as the door slid open. Kenobi was beside him, robes immaculate and one eyebrow drifting upwards. So was Commander Tano, but thankfully Skywalker threw his cloak over her face before she could witness his shame.  </p><p>“Wha— Skyguy!” Tano yelped, squirming beneath his robe as the Skywalker determinedly wrapped it around her head. “What’s going on? Lemme go!”</p><p>“Perhaps we should give the men some time to finish… whatever this is,” Kenobi said, gaze disappointingly steady on their faces rather than the proffered meat market. Rex wanted to die.</p><p>“No, we will not!” Skywalker shrieked, hauling a struggling Tano over his shoulder and glaring holes into the ceiling. His apoplexy face was at full force. Too late, Rex remembered his general’s weird hang-ups about nudity. Stars, he was going to have them all executed by firing squad. “They’re going to stop this… this <i>shameless</i> display and stop shaming their mothers!”</p><p>“We don’t have mothers,” Hardcase piped up.</p><p>“What shameless display?” Tano demanded, muffled. “Put me down, master, I wanna see!”</p><p>“WELL, YOU’RE SHAMING ME,” Skywalker yelled, and carted out a whining, kicking commander without looking away from the ceiling. </p><p>“It’s a medical inspection!” Kix called belatedly, which might have been convincing if he were wearing his medic’s uniform. Or anything, for that matter.</p><p>Rex finally managed to dislodge the brothers, though his blacks were sacrificed to the cause. “General,” he said, and then stopped. How the hell was he supposed to explain this when he had no idea what he was explaining?</p><p>“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Kenobi announced to the room at large, diplomatic smile firmly in place.</p><p>“...We’ll be done in a bit,” Rex said, clinging to his dignity about as well as he was clinging to the scraps of clothing still on him.</p><p>Kenobi nodded— </p><p>—then gave Rex the most thrilling up-and-down of his short, miserable life.  </p><p>“OBI-WAN, YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE!” Skywalker shrieked from somewhere outside.</p><p>Kenobi caught himself, gave Rex a sheepish grin, and <i>winked.</i> Someone started coughing uncontrollably. Another choked on their own spit. More codpieces fell to the ground, dislodged by a sudden rush of blood to the anatomy they were protecting. </p><p>Kenobi departed with one last appreciative glance at the rest of them, speeding up at Skywalker’s anguished wail. For a long moment, all was silent.</p><p>“What the kriff was that?” Fives asked giddily. “What the kriff was <i>that?</i>”</p><p>“Did he really—”</p><p>“—that <i>smile</i>—”</p><p>“—think he might’ve <i>liked?</i>—”     </p><p>“Captain,” Tup said reverently, “you’re a <i>genius</i>.” </p><p>-</p><p>It took a lot of convincing to keep the 501st from following the rest of the plan. The only thing that stopped Rex from letting them was that he still had no idea what the plan <i>was.</i> He had to check his sent comms at the first opportunity. Even so, the first part had worked out <i>great</i>; maybe Tup was right, and drunk him really was a genius.</p><p>After the initial jubilation, Rex managed to corral the 501st onto their star destroyer. Skywalker and Tano saw them off, though Skywalker was still on leave. He was scowling accusingly at his old master and ignoring Tano’s complaints about not being allowed to see whatever had so perturbed her master. Rex was grateful for his helmet. Neither could see his wide, silly grin or blushing cheeks. Skywalker could go weep into Senator Amidala’s arms about his virtue being tainted, for all Rex cared; even a sudden attack by Grievous wouldn’t kill his mood. </p><p>Skywalker and Tano finally left, after Kenobi promised three times to “dress appropriately.” Rex thought Skywalker might have actually been crying a little bit.</p><p>He settled in for another long jump through hyperspace; the front they were reinforcing was way out near the Outer Rim, and it would take a day or two to get there. All around him, vode were whispering and giggling like tubies as the news of Kenobi’s reaction spread. Rex had to fight not to squirm in embarrassed pleasure at the memory.</p><p>“Captain Rex, a word?”</p><p>Speak of the Sith.</p><p>“Of course, sir,” Rex squeaked, and followed Kenobi from the bridge like an eager Akk pup. His brothers were going from elated glee to dawning jealousy, and he could’ve sworn Hardcase was about to make a rude gesture before the doors slid shut.</p><p>The hallway outside was deserted, and when Kenobi pivoted to face him Rex almost jumped out of atmo. Had he caught on to their schemes? Was he going to flirt with Rex again??</p><p>“I’m very sorry if I made you at all uncomfortable today, captain,” Kenobi said, voice grave and eyes sincere. “I sometimes forget that I behave more familiarly with my men than most generals.”</p><p>He did that with the 212th? <i>All</i> of them?</p><p>Lucky <i>bastards.</i></p><p>“I didn’t mind at all, sir!” Rex rushed to reassure him, ripping off his bucket so that Kenobi could see how <i>very</i> receptive he was. He hoped his flush wasn’t too obvious. “The 501st would love it if you were more… familiar. With us.”</p><p>Kenobi smiled at that, pleased and soft, and Rex tried to memorize how it felt to cause it.</p><p>“Well, in the spirit of familiarity,” Kenobi began, then paused. Rex watched, fascinated, as his face tinged pink. “I’d like to ask you a… personal question.”</p><p>“Anything,” Rex blurted. Kenobi could ask for the galaxy with that smile and he’d happily comply. </p><p>(Of course, part of that was because he knew Kenobi would never ask anything of him he wasn’t prepared to give.)</p><p>“I find myself a bit… curious, about clone courting customs,” the high general said, folding his hands in his sleeves and not quite meeting Rex’s eyes. “If you were to be wooed, how would one go about doing it?”</p><p>Holy kriff holy kriff holy kriff on a karking stick— </p><p>“Me?” Rex said, voice cracking. “I. Um. I would be delighted. To, uh, to be c— to <i>teach you</i>. About courting.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Kenobi said, exhaling with a wide grin. “Well, I’ll let you get resettled, for now, but—”</p><p>“Dinner!” Rex said. “Dinner. We can talk about it. Over dinner. Would you like to eat together?”</p><p>Kenobi blinked. “Well, today I believe we’re both a bit busy—”  </p><p>“Whenever is fine,” Rex said. “I’m at your disposal, general.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, your work is just as important as mine,” Kenobi said with a little frown, making Rex’s chest swell even as his heart tried to beat out of it.</p><p>“I don’t mind at all,” Rex managed. “But when we both have a moment, then.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Kenobi said, and Rex jammed his bucket back on to keep himself from kissing him. “I’ll be in my office, should you need me.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir!” he said, louder than he needed to, and <i>ran</i> to a comm station so he could look up Jedi courtship customs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Obi-Wan: king of mixed signals<br/>Rex: king of taking a mile when he's given an inch</p>
        </blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130918">Drunk and Not Paid Enough</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieranIcarus/pseuds/KieranIcarus">KieranIcarus</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
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